


Soft

by Tellurion



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fat Shaming, Feeding Kink, M/M, Multi, Pre-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Revenge, Weight Gain, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-06-03 06:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19458232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tellurion/pseuds/Tellurion
Summary: Crowley loves everything about Aziraphale's corporation, from his dimpled cheeks to his soft, comfortable curves. So when he finds out that Gabriel has been mocking him and making him feel insecure about his weight, he comes up with a plan for revenge - tempt Gabriel until he starts packing on the pounds as well.What he didn't count on was both him and Aziraphale finding themselves falling for the newer, softer version of the archangel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授权翻译】Soft](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20053132) by [Wadeye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wadeye/pseuds/Wadeye)



> Haven't set a definite time frame for this, but it's before the Almost-pocalypse and before Aziraphale and Crowley have properly gotten together. Sometime in the early 2000s, going by the show's timeline. And it assumes Gabriel is making more routine visits to Aziraphale.

* * *

When Crowley first came around to visit, he hadn’t even gotten out of the Bentley when he sensed angelic power, far stronger than Aziraphale’s, coming from his shop. He peeled away from the curb before he could be sensed and circled around London, changing lights with a snap of his fingers and making a game out of how many pedestrians he could get to make rude gestures at him.

After sowing discord among London’s pedestrians and motorists for several hours, he drove back into Soho and pulled up next to the bookshop in the parking space near the door that was, as always, miraculously unoccupied. He didn’t sense any other angels but he still paused as he sauntered up, a package in hand, and knocked instead of pushing the door open as he normally would.

When Aziraphale answered his face was schooled into the polite but tense expression that Crowley most often saw when a customer actually made it into the shop and was attempting to purchase one of his books. The expression dropped and brightened the moment he saw the demon. “Crowley!”

“Hey angel.” He grinned and slid past him into the shop, promptly dropping himself down onto one of the overstuffed couches. “Visit from the boss I take it?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale sighed as he locked the door behind him. “Gabriel was here earlier. Fortunately Sandalphon wasn’t with him and I managed to get rid of him quickly enough.”

“Well this should cheer you up.” He held the package aloft. “New patisserie just opened up near my place. I know it’s not Paris, but in case you don’t want to get discorporated or get any more letters about frivolous miracles, it might do well enough.” He held it out towards Aziraphale. “No crepes, I’m afraid but I got some madeleines, profiteroles, a a macarons in four different flavors. And don’t worry, I made sure to pay,” he said proudly. He knew that paying instead of simply making shopkeepers forget that he hadn't was important to the angel.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and he reached for the box, but then backed away. “I shouldn’t,” he demurred. “Though if you would like some tea I can put on a pot.”

A brow arched above Crowley’s sunglasses. “Something wrong, angel? And forget tea, I was thinking wine. French. To keep with the pastries being French.” The angel hesitated again and Crowley leaned over towards him, miracling up a bottle of Bordeaux. “Come on, let me tempt you.”

“Oh, very well. I shall give into your wiles this once,” he huffed. “But only one glass. And none of the sweets.”

“Angel, I made a special trip to get them for you. And you love pastry. What’s all this about? You’re not sick are you? Can you even get sick?” He couldn’t remember either of them ever being sick, but wasn’t sure what else could cause Aziraphale to turn down French pastry, even if it had been made in England. “I swear, it’s as authentic as you’ll get in the city. The lady at the counter had an accent and everything.”

“It’s not that. I do want to try them. It’s just…” He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. “Gabriel pointed out that I haven’t been taking the best care of my corporation. Pointed out that I was getting a bit soft around the midsection. So I’m trying to mind what I consume.”

“You’re not going to listen to that wanker are you? It’s just a corporation! And you love sweets. Come on.” He ripped the paper off of the box and opened it up so that Aziraphale could see the treats inside. “Look at those profiteroles, covered in chocolate, just beginning to be eaten.”

Eying the assortment, Aziraphale reached over. “Well. How much harm could one do, I suppose. But no more after that!” He said sternly before popping the choux pastry into his mouth.

An hour later, the box was empty and the bottle of wine, along with two others, was on the floor. Crowley had a fourth bottle by the neck and was drinking straight from it.

“…so I don’t even see what the big deal is, it was just a missed penalty kick, but you should have seen how many angry people there were, angel.”

“Crowley,” he scolded in a half-hearted tone before stifling a belch with his mouth.

“See? Wasn’t this fun.” Crowley smiled. “Fuck Gabriel. Your corporation is wonderful.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed. “Stop it, you old serpent.”

“I mean it!” He protested. “Perfect just as you are!”

“It’s sweet of you to say so, but I know it’s not true.” He sighed. “Gabriel is the ideal, I suppose. And I’m nothing like him. I don’t think I’d _want_ to be, but still.” He rubbed his stomach which was a bit distended from all they’d eaten. “I shouldn’t have indulged so much.”

Crowley watched from behind his glasses as Aziraphale’s hands traced the soft curve of his stomach. He wanted to go over and rub it himself, to show the angel how much he did love his form. But as he saw Aziraphale’s disheartened expression, another feeling joined his affection.

How _dare_ Gabriel, he thought. Shitty, pompous prick, walking around like he was better than the rest of the angels, talking down to Aziraphale like that. Someone ought to take him to task. Crowley drained more of the wine. Someone really should. And as he followed down where that train of thought lead, another idea began forming.

Gabriel was so holier-than-thou, eh? Well. Anybody could fall into temptation. Even an archangel. Would serve him right for criticizing Aziraphale, if he fell prey to the same pleasures. Got a bit soggy about the middle himself.

Of course, he couldn’t tempt the angel directly right away. He'd know what he was up to, probably get smited or discorporated himself. And Aziraphale wouldn’t take kindly to a direct suggestion to taint an angel with something like gluttony. He'd probably be worried about the wanker actually Falling. But if he phrased it just the right way, perhaps he could help along a milder temptation and let things develop from there. Just enough to make the archangel realize what it was like to be uncomfortable in his own skin.

“You know, you should get him to try something,” Crowley urged.

“Hmmmm?” Aziraphale looked up from the glass of wine he was sipping. “Get who to try what?”

“Gabriel. You’ve talked before how he’s always going on about not sullying his celestial body - you should get him to try food. Show him how much there is to love about earthly cuisine. Aren’t angels supposed to be all about love?”

“I don’t think he’d go for that at all,” Aziraphale said glumly. “He’s been very clear on that point.”

“You underestimate yourself. You’ve done plenty of temptations for me. You got me to try oysters back in Rome and those things are terrible. Don’t even look edible. Compared to that, it it shouldn’t be too hard to get him to try some chocolate or some wine.”

“Well. I suppose if it was encouraging _affection_ it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“That’s right! Broaden his horizons. And if he loves it, then you’d have done him a favor, wouldn’t you have?”

For a few moments Aziraphale pondered, then broke out into the bright smile that made his cheeks dimple. “It couldn’t hurt to try, I guess. Very well. I’ll see if I can tempt him next time,” he said with a smile and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Crowley leaned on the arm of the couch, stretching languidly over It as he watched the angel, smirking to himself as Aziraphale leaned back into his chair and finished his own wine with a contented sigh.

A small in was all he needed. The slightest misstep to start urging him towards full-blown gluttony. Then they would see who was sullying and failing to maintain their corporation.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale bustled around the bookshop, looking up to check the time every so often. It wasn’t a bad suggestion that Crowley had given at all, he thought. Gabriel could be a bit rude from time to time about the things that Aziraphale did or liked, but perhaps that was simply because he didn’t understand them. Heaven was, after all, very different from earth and didn’t have the same sorts of pleasures. But that didn’t mean that earthly delights were bad. He only needed to be shown them, then he might appreciate them more. Or at least not tease Aziraphale so much.  
  
Afternoon tea was just the thing, he thought. Gabriel had very fancy tastes in clothing so surely he would enjoy something so refined. To that end, Aziraphale had gone out and purchased a very lovely selection of sandwiches - salmon and dill, coronation chicken, cucumber and watercress - along with scones, clotted cream, strawberry preserves, and a Battenberg cake. He arranged all of it very neatly on a tiered stand, set atop a small table covered in a neatly starched lace table cloth. He prepared a pot of Darjeeling in a kettle covered in roses with matching tea cups and sat to wait.  
  
Gabriel showed up as usual, stepping through the door and looked over the tea with an appraising glance.  
  
“Eating again I see,” he said, with the faintest hint of judgment in his voice.  
  
“Ah. Yes. Well.” Aziraphale fidgeted. “I thought we might have tea together. You always come around near the traditional time for it. And here in England, it’s only polite when you’ve a guest over to offer them hospitality.”  
  
“You needn’t maintain human conventions for me,” he said, though he did sit down at the table, settling his long limbs into the small chair. “We’re both angels. I’m not going to take any offense if we don’t do some sort of human foodstuffs ritual together.”  
  
“I mean. I do know that. And I know you aren’t overly keen on eating…”  
  
“Sullying my corporation,” he broke in.  
  
“Indeed. _But._ Is it really sullying, to enjoy the fruits of what She has placed on this earth?” Aziraphale suggested hopefully. “I feel guilty that I’ve never offered to share this with you before. It really is amazing what Her creatures have come up with in their time on earth. How could it be sullying to try that which ultimately proceeds from Her? For She made this place and humanity itself and what She creates is good. And you can’t really taint the celestial with anything less than demonic.”  
  
“Not all that humans do is good,” Gabriel pointed out. He looked over the spread on the table. “What is all of this anyway?”  
  
“A bit of light fare. Sandwiches and scones, all very traditional. Tea.” He held the pot up and Gabriel regarded him skeptically.  
  
“And you like all of this?”  
  
“I do. You might as well, if you would give it a try. Nothing wrong with giving new experiences a shot, hmm?”  
  
Gabriel folded his hands in front of him and sighed. “Aziraphale. You…”  
  
He paused in the middle of his sentence and quirked his head to the side.  
  
“Yes?” Aziraphale looked at him hopefully.

* * *

  
  
Outside of the bookstore, Crowley lurked. Or rather, he sat on the sidewalk beneath the windows, giving a withering glare to one passerby who tossed him change.  
  
He knew when Gabriel would be by. And while Aziraphale always did have a way with words, it couldn’t hurt to be sure. He was doing to best to dampen his own demonic aura. They’d both be in trouble if Gabriel found out. But he let just a little bit of his power snake out of him.  
  
He listened to Aziraphale trying to tempt the archangel in his earnest, good-natured way. But Gabriel was as reluctant as ever. So Crowley reached out - the tiniest, quietest bit - and gave a nudge.  
  
_What would it hurt._  
  
_Just one._

 _Just a bite._  
  
_Just a taste._  
  
He didn’t dare do more but he hoped it would be enough. He leaned against the wall and tried to discern what was going on inside.

* * *

“Well. I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Just a bite,” Gabriel said. “If it ruins the corporation, I can always put in for another.”  
  
“That’s the spirit!” Aziraphale broke into a grin and made an enthusiastic gesture, nearly upsetting the teapot. He quickly poured a cup for them both and set it down before gesturing to the assortment. “Try anything you like,” he offered as he spooned sugar into his cup of tea.  
  
The purple-eyed angel looked it all over. “Anything you’d suggest? This will probably be a one time thing so I suppose I’ll defer to your expertise to make this as, well, good as it can be.” He still sounded skeptical but at least he was willing, Aziraphale thought.  
  
“Hmm. Well, I’m partial to the sweeter things myself. But the cake might be a touch _too_ sweet. How about a scone with some lovely jam and clotted cream?” He split one of the warm scones onto a plate, spread it with jam, and dolloped it with the clotted cream before offering it to Gabriel. “Here. Try it! Tell me what you think,” he encouraged.  
  
Gabriel took the rose-edged plate and finished the two halves off with a few quick bites. His eyebrows jumped as he chewed and he washed the bread down with the tea in one quick go. “That actually… wasn’t bad.”  
  
Aziraphale beamed. “See! I told you that you might enjoy it. You may have anything else of course,” he went on as he piled his own plate with a couple of the sandwiches and a scone for himself.  
  
“No, that’s alright,” he put up a hand and Aziraphale’s face fell a little. “We should get on to the business of the day. But thank you,” he said with a stiff nod. “Your hospitality is noted and appreciated.”

* * *

Outside of the window, as the two angels discussed events happening on earth and what Aziraphale was doing to spread the Lord’s light, a demon rose, stretched his legs, and shoved a handful of change into his pockets. He’d glue them on to other sidewalks later, he thought. For the moment, he considered it a day’s work well done.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Crowley showed up later that evening, hoping that he might be able to persuade Aziraphale into going out and getting dinner with him. But first he wanted to hear the details of Gabriel’s temptation.

“Angel! How did it go? Did you get him to try anything?” He leaned in and smirked. “Did he vomit? Be honest.”

“Don’t be crude, of course he didn’t!” Aziraphale scoffed and closed the book he was reading. “I didn’t get him to try much, but I did persuade him to have a scone and he seemed to like it!”

“A toast to your success then, at the Ritz? I think there might just be an open table,” he grinned.

“Very well, you fiend. But only because your suggestion worked out so well. I think think really might help Gabriel and I to get along more easily! And hopefully it will mean fewer notes about ‘frivolous’ miracles. I do know I’m supposed to be more careful about such things,” he fretted. “It’s so difficult to get tea and cocoa to just the right temperature, though. I don’t know how humans manage.”

“Indeed. Are you going to try again next week?” Crowley turned his head a little so Aziraphale couldn’t see the interest in his expression.

“Do you think I should?” He lit up as he pulled on a jacket. “I had a rather basic spread this time, but I could go for something a little fancier the next! What do you like for tea?”

“Alcohol! Get Gabe wasted before he heads back upstairs, that’ll go over well.”

Aziraphale huffed as he followed Crowley out the door. “Do be serious, dear.”

“Wellllll…” Crowley thought about it as he slid into the driver’s seat of the Bentley. What would hurry the archangel along the path to gluttony. “His corporation is sort of American, isn’t it?”

“Mmhmm. Sticks out dreadfully sometimes.” Aziraphale braced himself slightly as Crowley literally went from zero to ninety and nearly hit a man on his cell phone as he stepped off the curb. “I know he doesn’t normally eat but I don’t think he even knew what a tea service was at first.”

“They like really sweet stuff over there. Really sweet. Sugar and salt in everything. Banoffee pie maybe?”

“It’s not my usual, but I suppose he might like it. I thought the cake might be too sweet for him, but perhaps he would have preferred that.” He tapped his chin. “I could make the sandwich a bit more robust as well, I suppose. Roast beef instead of watercress.”

“Enough about what Gabriel’s eating,” Crowley said, swerving around a corner. “What are you thinking of getting tonight?” He wanted the temptation to go well, but he was already sick of talking about what might make Gabriel happy. Luckily, Aziraphale changed subjects easily and was soon discussing the current selection of courses and what champagne they might want to have with their dinner.

Crowley wouldn’t eat much himself. But it was enough for him to watch Aziraphale take bite after bite, making small noises of pleasure and seeing his face beam with delight.

* * *

The next time Gabriel stepped into the shop, Aziraphale was ready and waiting and for a moment the other angel looked taken aback. “Oh. I didn’t know you intended to do the human food ceremony again. ”

“Yes! Well. I thought after last time you might enjoy it?” Aziraphale looked at the taller angel anxiously. “I’ve a few new things this time. Roast beef and horseradish sandwiches and more coronation chicken, banoffee pie, some shortbread, tarts. Come, sit down. Perhaps you will like something even better than the scone!”

For a moment he hesitated, then gave Aziraphale a wide smile. “It was good the last time,” he admitted, sitting down to the table. “It couldn’t hurt. Helps to fit in better, as you said.” He looked over each of the dishes. “What would you say I should try?”

“We could start with the sandwiches.” He put a square, crustless sandwich on a plate and passed it over. “The horseradish has a bit of a kick, but I think it’s very good. Do you agree?”

Gabriel ate the entire thing in moments and nodded as he chewed. Aziraphale felt a little thrill of success and reached for another. “And this is a type of chicken mixed with mango chutney. Here, some tea to wash it down with as well. And I have cream and sugar if you like.”

He sipped at the tea and made a small face. “Do they make it less like leaves?”

“The sugar will,” Aziraphale assured him and stirred in two heaping spoonfuls. When Gabriel took another sip and smiled instead of pulling a face, Aziraphale felt a little thrill. Crowley was right about this too, he thought. He did like sweet things. “And once you’ve had some sandwiches there are biscuits and other treats.”

This time, the other angel tried a bit of each and it was nearly an hour until they reached the original purpose of Gabriel’s visit. By the time Gabriel rose, bid his farewells, and vanished in a beam of blinding light, the table was mostly empty. Once they’d gotten started, it had been easier and easier to convince Gabriel to try each new thing.

It was strange, Aziraphale thought, but as much as he enjoyed the food himself, he enjoyed watching Gabriel try it even more. The faces he made as he tasted for the very first time, like it was a puzzle to decide whether or not he liked something, followed by the bright pleasure of deciding that he did. It was all new to him - that’s what made it so exciting. And he’d seemed in such a good mood after that he didn’t even mention that, strictly speaking, Aziraphale had exceeded his minor miracle quotient several days over the past week.

He truly owed Crowley, he thought, for making such an excellent suggestion.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Gabriel tried to concentrate on his paperwork, but for some reason, it was difficult to focus. He looked up at the clocks in his office, showing the times in all of the various parts of the earth, watching as the seconds slid by. In only a few hours he was due to pay Aziraphale a visit and he couldn’t help wondering if he would once again prepare the food ceremony - tea, he had called it. The last time he’d meant to politely decline, but the spread before him had looked intriguing. And after all, it would have been rude to refuse after Aziraphale made such an effort.  
  
Would he do it again? What might they have today? So far it all seemed to be limited to sweets with a few sliced bread preparations. What else did earth have, he wondered? Not that he objected to what Aziraphale had served. He thought back to some of what he’d tried. Roasted beef smeared with a sauce that made his tongue tingle, circles of what Aziraphale called shortbread that crumbled inside of his mouth but had a rich taste that the other angel said was butter, a gooey mixture of fruit and cream arranged into slices. There was a strange sensation inside of his mouth and he touched his lips. His tongue felt… wetter? Curious.  
  
Of course, he didn’t need such things. But the memory of them seemed to stir his corporation. For a moment, he looked down at himself and he seemed the same as ever. He worried about sullying himself, but he didn’t feel any differently than he did before. Did he? He studied his hand, trying to see if there were any changes he could detect, but nothing revealed itself.  
  
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely heard the knocking at the door. After a second round, he shook himself and looked up at the door. “Come in!” The door slid open, revealing Sandalphon who gave the archangel a nod.  
  
“Archangel Gabriel. You are visiting earth today again, are you not? To check in with the angels working there?”  
  
“Ah. Yes, I’ll be leaving shortly.” He started putting away his papers. Surely Aziraphale wouldn’t mind if he dropped in a little bit early. Even if it wasn’t ready, he might get to have a peek at what was to come.  
  
“Do you wish me to accompany you down there? I know I have been busy of late, but I have the time today.”  
  
Gabriel paused to consider the offer, thought about Sandalphon seeing what he and Aziraphale were doing. Perhaps he would stand off to the side staring at them. Perhaps he would even deign to join them. He thought about sitting down to eat with Aziraphale with Sandalphon seated between them. The archangel frowned.  
  
“No thank you. I can make the trip by myself. But the offer is appreciated.” He gave the other angel a nod to indicate that he was dismissed and, after a moment’s pause, Sandalphon returned the nod and backed out of the office, leaving him alone with his thoughts again.  
  
As he drifted back to what they had eaten together he wondered - was it rude of him to keep expecting Aziraphale to set out such meals? He knew that oftentimes humans would meet in places specifically for serving food, where they would eat and talk. Restaurants, he recalled. He’d met Aziraphale in them a few times but of course hadn’t eaten anything then. Perhaps he could offer to take him to one and they could try different foods. If he hurried, he might be able to catch Aziraphale before he’d gone to all the trouble of getting everything ready.  
  
Hurrying, he grabbed his coat and slid it on before vanished from the office, only to appear in front of Aziraphale’s shop window.

* * *

  
Aziraphale was cozy and comfortable in his favorite chair, reading one of his favorite books, a signed copy of _The Picture of Dorian Grey_ , with a small plate of biscuits next to him. But as he went to turn the next page, he was startled into attention by a sudden rush of celestial energy. He looked up at a clock and saw that it was hours until Gabriel was set to appear. Could another angel have come to visit?  
  
There was a knock and he scrambled to go and open the door, swinging it open to reveal the amethyst-eyed archangel standing there. “Gabriel!” He flushed and started tugging at his vest, trying to straighten himself out. “I wasn’t expecting you for several hours yet.”  
  
The angel breezed past him and stepped inside the shop. “Yes! I know. I wanted to see you a little sooner. Aziraphale. I was thinking.” He pointed at him with a broad grin. “You prepared tea for me the last time. The last two times. So, to return the favor, how would you like to have our meeting at one of those places where the humans go to purchase food?”  
  
“Out to a restaurant?” Aziraphale blinked at him.  
  
“Yes! Exactly.” He clapped his hands together. “Not that I didn’t like the tea. I did! But maybe we could try something else? I will take care of it, of course.”  
  
Aziraphale beamed. “You… you really want to go out to eat with me at a restaurant? And you will actually eat, not just watch me?”  
  
“Well of course,” Gabriel affirmed with a confused expression. “That is the point of going to such places, is it not? To eat?”  
  
“Of course, of course,” he nodded. “I’ll fetch my coat! Where do you want to go? Oh, I’m sorry, you’ll not be familiar with the area. But of course, I can come up with recommendations.” He bustled about, pulling on a camel-colored coat and putting away the book. “What do you think you would like to try? Sushi? No, that might be a bit much for your first time eating at a restaurant. There’s always the Ritz, but that might be a few too many courses as well. I’d say fish and chips, but, well. We’re rather over-dressed for that,” he fretted.  
  
He paced in front of Gabriel for a few moments before pausing. “Would you mind very terribly if we used a minor miracle to do a little traveling?”  
  
Gabriel paused to consider. “I suppose I could overlook it just this once.”  
  
Aziraphale clapped his hands together and smiled. “What would you say to some crêpes?”

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Aziraphale daubed at the size of his mouth with a napkin, already finished with his first few crêpes and ready to order another round. “Well? What you do think?”

Gabriel blinked and pushed the thin, half-eaten pancake around on the plate. “It’s very light. Delicate.” He took a few more bites. “I like the chocolate. And the strawberries. The ham was nice too.” He picked up a glass of wine that was sitting next to the plate. “I really like this, though.” He finished off the rest of the glass of wine and then reached for the bottle to pour out some more. “It’s like fruit but better; it makes me feel warm.”

“Ah, yes, the Sauvignon blanc.” He took a fresh plate of crêpes from the waiter and ordered another bottle of wine in halting French. “ _Une autre bouteille de vin, s’il te plait?”_ The waiter nodded and returned with it a moment later, filling up Gabriel’s glass again. “Do be careful with it, though.” Aziraphale warned. “Too much and you’ll need to sober up later on, else you’ll feel terrible in the morning.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Gabriel said confidently, draining half the glass before picking a little more at the crêpes in front of him.

Two hours later, it was a little less than fine. The waiter was removing the bottles as they finished them, but they’d had enough that Aziraphale could not quite remember how many they’d finished. Gabriel miracled up the money to pay for the meal with broad, clumsy gestures and was louder than he even normally was. Aziraphale looked at the empty bottles and frowned; they probably should have stopped, but the crêpes here were _so good_ and it was easy to keep going without recalling just how much they’d both had.

“Well then.” He steered the other angel out of the cafe. “I suppose we ought to go back then.”

“Oh! Yes. Don’t worry. It can be my miracle, the head office gives me plenty of discretion you know. No need for you to go up against your limit.” He draped one long arm around Aziraphale and snapped his fingers.

Aziraphale jolted and looked around at the suddenness of it. Luckily they’d ended up in a small side alley and the crowds flowing up and down the street were rushing past, concerned only with themselves. He didn’t think they’d been seen, but they were not quite at his shop and he said as much.

“Sorry.” Gabriel looked around. “I must have been off a little.”

“No, no, it’s fine. We’re only on Regent Street. Not too far away. I think we could walk.” He didn’t fancy either of them trying another miracle and ending up somewhere else altogether - or worse, being so careless that the humans noticed something was off.

They hadn’t gotten far down the street then when Gabriel stopped. Aziraphale looked up at him. “Is something wrong?”

“Something smells really good.” He looked around at the various shops and focused in on one of the doors. “There.” He gestured and before Aziraphale could stop him was pushing inside. The restaurant they’d stepped into was richly decorated and smelled deeply of spices. “What is this? It doesn’t smell at all like the place that we went to in France.”

“Ah, well, this is an Indian restaurant. Curries and such.”

“Curries? What are those?” Before Aziraphale could answer, a waitress approached the and Gabriel drew up to his full height and gave her a broad smile. “Two please.”

Already stuff with crêpes, Aziraphale sat across from him, ordering a tea as Gabriel studied the menu intently. “I’ve had tikka masala, of course, but you might want to start with something like a korma.”

The waitress came over and Gabriel looked up at her. “What would you recommend?” She listed off a few dishes and he nodded. “Tell you what. Bring me one of each.”

Aziraphale’s brows shot up in surprise - but then again, Gabriel had only eaten a few crêpes. Perhaps he was hungrier than he’d thought. The way that his face lit up when the waitress brought over dishes and started putting them down, he looked as though he hadn’t had a meal in weeks.

He dug into the first dish she brought, a lamb rogan josh, and Aziraphale watched his brows draw together as the first bite hit his tongue. He chewed slowly and when he finally finished, he leaned over towards Aziraphale. “It feels like my mouth is burning. And it’s painful. But it’s also… nice?” He took another bite and then another after that. “I shouldn’t want to feel pain. But I want to have more of it.” He looked at the dish in confusion.

“Spicy food is like that for some. It’s a bit much for me personally,” he said between sips. “But others have more of a taste for it.”

“I like it!” He grinned, eating quickly and taking spoonfuls of rice and long sips of water every now and then.

The waitress brought over a vindaloo and Aziraphale pointed at it in warning. “That one will likely be even hotter than the first.”

“Really?” His expression lit up and he reached for the new dish, puffing on the steaming food before putting it in his mouth and gasping after the first bite. “It builds too,” he observed. “It gets hotter and hotter, but there are other tastes as well! And the meat is so tender.” He scooped some of the sauce onto the rice and finished that as well. “Are you sure you don’t want any?”

“No, no, quite alright. I’m still full from earlier. But you go ahead and enjoy.” He looked at Gabriel’s grin and returned it with a smile of his own.

He finished off the meat in the dishes, the sopped up the rest of the sauce with rice and rotis. Finally, the waitress brought over a plate full of seasoned rice with shrimp mixed in throughout. Aziraphale did have a few bites of that, but Gabriel ate so quickly that he didn’t have much of a chance before that plate was empty as well.

Gabriel sat back with a groan resting his hand on his stomach. “That was wonderful,” he sighed. “Why isn’t more food like that?”

“I’m glad you liked it. It’s very spicy. Too much for some. I wasn’t sure if you’d enjoy something like that, but clearly you do.”

“It’s so strange!” He marveled. “It hurts but it’s good and I just wanted more and more.” He sighed. “Are there other foods like this?”

“Some are. We can try as many kinds as you like,” he promised. “Though on a different day perhaps. I don’t think I could fit another bite myself.”

He nodded in agreement and paid for the second meal as well before stepping away from the table with a groan. “I feel… odd. Like I don’t want to move at all.”

“It’s the sign of a good meal,” Aziraphale said. “It will pass. Though I personally like the feeling. I find it very satisfying.”

Gabriel considered this for a moment, then nodded. “We need to move though. We have to get back to your shop.”

“Yes, well. Luckily we’ve had some time to sober up.” Aziraphale took him down another alley and, in a doorway, miracled them the rest of the way back over to his shop. They appeared among the shelves with a jolt, Gabriel standing right up against Aziraphale. “I suppose you’ll be heading back up to the office then?”

“I should,” he nodded. “It’s a bit later than I intended.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you.” Aziraphale looked up at him. “Oh! Before you go. You just… you’ve got a little…” He gestured at Gabriel’s face but the other angel only looked confused, so he reached up and brushed away a smear of sauce that lingered around the corner of his mouth. “There. Wouldn’t want to send you back up to Heaven looking a mess.”

He clapped him on the shoulders. “Thank you, Aziraphale.” Then he vanished as he always did, leaving Aziraphale alone in the shop.

With a sigh, he flopped down onto the couch. He closed his eyes and wasn’t sure how much time had gone by when another familiar presence knocked at the door. “Come in!”

Crowley sauntered across the threshold. “Angel! Where have you been? I was starting to think that wanker might have kidnapped you and taken you back Upstairs.”

“Hush, Crowley,” he said with a laugh. “He’s not so bad, when you get to know him,” he went on, ignoring the demon’s grimace. “He showed up a little early today and we decided we’d go to a restaurant instead. So. We hopped across the channel.”

“You went to France?” Crowley sounded like he couldn’t believe it.

“He said he didn’t even mind using a miracle! We had crêpes!” He cheerfully informed him.

“Crêpes?”

“Yes. Although I don’t think they were quite to his taste. But then on the way back we stopped at an Indian place and he _did_ enjoy that. You should have seen him Crowley.”

“Ah. That's... interesting.” He sat on the couch next to Aziraphale. “Well, since I wasn’t there, you’ll just have to tell me all about it, won’t you?”

Aziraphale’s head lolled over towards the demon and he began describing all that they had tried together and the way Gabriel had taken to each dish in turn. Crowley listened intently, nodding at intervals for him to continue.

“Oh Crowley,” he sighed as he finished. “It really is such a pleasure.” He drew a little bit nearer. “It is a shame you two are hereditary enemies. Otherwise I’d invite you to join us.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said in a tone Aziraphale couldn’t quite parse. “Shame.”

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

When he got back to his office, Gabriel immediately slumped into the tall leather chair behind his desk. What in Her name had gotten in to him? His mouth still stung from the heat of the dishes that he’d eaten and he’d gorged until he was uncomfortably full. But he still wanted more. He hadn’t been able to stop himself.

Lower down, his stomach still ached a little and he could see that it was slightly distended. With a wave, he changed into his usual jogging outfit, which sat more comfortably on his corporation. His hand drifted lower on his abdomen and his fingertips pressed down into the curve of his bloated belly, gently massaging it. Something bubbled up inside of him and his mouth reflexively opened, making a strange throaty rumbling noise. His hand clamped over his mouth, as if to silence it - it tasted, faintly, of all the things he’d eaten over the last several hours. For a moment, he felt a sharp pang of disgust. His corporation, so carefully controlled, was behaving in unanticipated ways, giving him sensations he’d never felt, that he didn’t know what to do with or how to stop.

But the faint traces of spice still on his tongue took him back to the meal he’d eaten and he closed his eyes. His mouth watered at the memory and he swallowed.

He bit the side of his cheek in agitation and scolded himself. He’d gone thousands of years without eating, he didn’t need to do it at all, it shouldn’t be that hard to give it up.

Or. Perhaps he could just have a bite or two when he visited.

No more than a small plate at the very most.

Humans ate meals all the time, several times a day; he just needed to portion properly and not lose control.

It would be fine, he thought. He was an angel, of course he could abstain when needed.

That settled, he began wondering what they might try the next time - if it would be spicy like the curries or sweet like the treats from the tea, light and fluffy like the crêpes or crumbly like the scones. Perhaps something else all together.

He could hardly wait.

* * *

Crêpes. They had gone to _France_ for fucking _crêpes_.

Crowley gripped his steering wheel and pressed on the pedals until he was going past ninety. Aziraphale had taken Gabriel out for crêpes? He didn’t even sound like he’d enjoyed them, the absolute pillock! Aziraphale wasn’t supposed to be going around eating crêpes at the drop of a hat, with asshole angels.

On some level, Crowley knew that he wasn’t a particularly good demon. He wasn’t overly invested in his job and he didn’t need to be - humans usually thought up enough terrible things on their own. No need for him to get overworked trying to make it worse when they’d outdo him every time. If he did do temptations or evil deeds, it was more along the lines of making birds shit on well-dressed people in St. James’s Park.

Occasionally, he could get a particularly devious idea for causing trouble. Something like sneaking an advert into all of the major papers spoiling the ending of the Great British Bake Off and then basking in all of the low-grade anger and annoyance that it produced.

Occasionally after committing such acts, he’d go over to Aziraphale’s shop to try and tempt him into lunch only to find the angel irritated at having his favorite show ruined while he read the morning papers, and he was not at all in the mood for company, surely Crowley could understand.

Crowley was getting an irritating feeling in the back of his mind that this might be turning into one of those temptations.

Aziraphale was only supposed to light the fire, to get Gabriel to fall into a pit of gluttony all on his own so that Crowley could engage in some surreptitious mockery and bask in the sight of composed Gabriel losing control and feeling like shit. He didn’t intend for the two of them to start going off to France and having _crêpes_. Or for Aziraphale to be reminiscing about it after the fact with the same smile he got when talking about certain other interests, like old prophecy books or doing magic.

“Six thousand years,” he snarled when he stormed into his flat, letting the door slam behind him. In the next room, the plants trembled, and he threw himself into the large gold and velvet chair in the center of the room. He had been Aziraphale’s friend for ages, since the world was new. He wasn’t about to get replaced by some jumped up messenger who didn’t even know how to treat him right.

Rather than consider why he might be so very angry over what was unfolding, Crowley instead sat down, trying to think of how he might turn this to his advantage.

* * *

Back in his shop, Aziraphale made himself a mug of cocoa and settled in with the book he’d been reading earlier before Gabriel came over. Absently, he started to wonder if Gabriel would like cocoa. He didn’t seem to like tea all that much, but cocoa was sweeter and perhaps would be more to his taste. It had been lovely to go back to France again and the Indian restaurant they’d visited had certainly been sumptuous, but there was something to be said for curling up with a nice mug of cocoa and a plate of biscuits.

Of course, if they stayed around the shop for too long, he realized, Gabriel might to begin to detect signs of Crowley having been there. Sandalphon always seemed to be slightly on edge when he accompanied him, looking around as if there was a stench in the air. It wasn’t a worry when the archangel was quickly in and out, but if he was lingering for hours, having meals…

Aziraphale sipped. Well. Perhaps Gabriel was not as intractable as once he’d been. He seemed to be coming around on food after all. Maybe he was softening up a little bit. Perhaps he would grow used to the lingering sense of Crowley’s demonic presence, like one would a scent they always wore until they couldn’t even tell anymore.

Perhaps, eventually, if he simply sat down and explained the sensibility of it all, he could begin to understand the Arrangement.

Not right away of course. That was still far too dangerous and he wouldn’t risk anything without discussing it with Crowley first. It was nice to have some genuinely friendly angelic companionship, but Crowley - he had Crowley had known each other for ages. He was glad Gabriel was being more civil but Crowley was… well. He was something else.

Still, it would be difficult to keep knowledge of Crowley apart from him forever if they started spending more time together. And when they had been back in France enjoying their meal, Aziraphale had occasionally thought about when he and Crowley had been there before, during the Revolution and each time after. What would it have been like, he wondered, to have a third at the table, drinking and making witty remarks as they ate?

It would be lovely, he thought, if somehow, someway, they might be able to get along.

That day was probably a long way off, he thought ruefully as he finished the last few sips of lukewarm cocoa and shut the book.

But they had all the time in the world.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

Crowley hated Hell. Not that anybody liked it, even the demons most responsible for building it - that was the point of Hell after all. But Crowley _really_ hated it. It was cold, perpetually damp, and stank of mildew. And it was full of idiots who never appreciated a job well done.

What it _did_ have, thanks to Dagon’s efforts, was an extensive filing system that described many of the movements and activities of other demons who were periodically sent to earth, as well as those of many of their corresponding angelic counterparts. He supposed that he could have asked Aziraphale where the other angels were stationed, but he wasn’t sure Aziraphale was even aware of the other earthly agents there were around - and anyway, the less his angel knew about what he was up to, the better.

Armed with the knowledge of the cities that Gabriel was bound to visit as part of his duties, Crowley lurked about the vicinity. He hated lurking - it seemed like such a waste of time and effort - but needs must. And in each time and place, whenever he came across the archangel, he nudged him a little more to tempt him into eating on his own.

He watched from behind a newspaper as Gabriel sat in a diner and devoured a plate of chips covered in gravy and sprinkled in cheese curds. He sunned himself on some marble steps in a piazza as across the way Gabriel shoveled stracciatella into his mouth, wincing from the cold but not slowing down. He sat several tables behind him, glancing up from a truly terrible bottle of beer as the angel tore into a pile of smoked meat.

Loath as he normally was to do individual temptations, after the third or fourth time Crowley could at least see the charm in it. He could see the pleasure in Gabriel’s features with every bite and knew that he was responsible, in some way, for putting it there, even if the angel didn’t realize it. After a few more visits, he could see subtle changes in him, not just in his shape but in his demeanor as well. It was while he was watching him cheerfully polish off pork belly buns from a street vendor that two realizations hit Crowley and made his stomach lurch.

It wasn’t just the sin of gluttony worming its way into Gabriel, leading him further into a pit of temptation. With every bite there was happiness, satisfaction, _joy_. Worse, the way he took pleasure in what he ate seemed familiar - it was, it dawned on the demon, the way that Aziraphale looked when he ate the things that he loved.

Not thinking anybody was looking, Gabriel licked his fingers and sighed in satisfaction before going off to meet the angel he was supposed to be visiting. The movement made it clear his suit was just a little bit tighter, tugging in places it wouldn’t have only a month ago.

Crowley cursed under his breath and fled back to England.

* * *

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed on opening the door. “What an unexpected pleasure! You told me you would be off on business for a while, I wasn’t expecting you until the end of the week at least. But are you well? You look at little haggard. Nothing went _too_ terribly wrong during your temptation, did it? Well, other than the inherent wrongness of a temptation.”

“Just fine, angel.” He slid inside. “Got done faster than expected. Thought I’d drop in. See how things were back here.”

“I did have a close call the other day, thought a customer was going to try to purchase one of my older Doyle volumes. Fortunately they went off with a few Grafton paperbacks instead. Oh! And I don’t think you’ve been by since Gabriel last visited. Did you know he brought me gelato? All the way from Italy!”

“Did he?” Crowley angled his head up but Aziraphale couldn’t quite discern his expression behind the glasses.

“Yes! Would you like to have some? It’s very good. I’m afraid we already finished off the pistachio, but there’s still some of the gianduia left. I must say, ever since I tempted him to a spot of tea, it’s like he’s an entirely different angel!” Without waiting for a response, he went to the small kitchenette and started preparing bowls of chocolate hazelnut gelato. He scooped a generous portion into one bowl and a more modest portion into a second, handing the smaller one to Crowley on his return.

“What, all because he eats now?” Crowley skimmed the spoon across the cocoa-colored scoop and popped it in his mouth with a derisive little noise.

“It’s more than that.” Aziraphale nibbled on his own spoonful. “He’s so much more relaxed. Hasn’t asked me about excessive miracles in weeks! I even got a call from Camael over in Toronto asking if I had noticed the changes. In the past, he could be so overbearing that most angels preferred to do what miracles they needed to and then went back Upstairs. But now I think some of them might actually stay around! I know that’s not terribly good news for your side,” he admitted. “But it’s made my reports so much easier. Such a dramatic change - it almost seems miraculous!” He ate another bite and gave Crowley a pleased smile.

Crowley’s spoon scraped across the bottom of the bowl and he set it aside. “Yeah. A real miracle. But you probably shouldn’t get too used to it, you know?”

“Whyever not?” His smile dimmed a little.

“Do you think he could really change like that? Just because he’s eating? He’ll probably come to his senses and go back to being his usual pompous self in another month. You might even catch some flack for sullying his corporation.”

“Perhaps it’s only a temporary phase,” Aziraphale admitted reluctantly. “You think that he would blame me, though?”

Crowley pushed his glasses up. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt when he goes back to his old ways.”

“I’ve managed to survive Heavenly reprimands before, I’m sure I could again.” He sighed. “I do hope this is permanent though. I like him this way.” He looked down into his bowl as he finished his gelato.

Over on the couch, Crowley gnawed on his lip.

* * *

Gabriel winced a little and his fingers drifted to the waistband of his tailored suit. There was no mistaking, it was tight. He undid the button and ran his fingers along the flesh of his corporation, below the band. The skin there was indented and red, sore from where the fabric had been digging into it.

He frowned; his usual tailor was normally so skilled, it was strange that he would make a mistake like this. But it was no matter. He could drop by and have that remedied easily enough.

And since his tailor was over in England, he realized, it would give him another reason to visit Aziraphale.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

“There should be just enough extra material to cover the adjustment. It shouldn’t be too much trouble to let it out, sir. And then we can take a full set of new measurements so that any future orders will be precise.” The tailor wound up his tape measure from around Gabriel’s waist.

“So then,” Gabriel said slowly. “Not an error?”

“No, we were quite exact. But it’s no trouble to adjust. Not uncommon for a man of your age to gain a few inches here or there,” he said, making markings with a white chalk pencil, sparing a glance at Gabriel’s salt and pepper hair.

As he held his arms out so that the tailor could take the rest of his measurements, a feeling of unease settled in the pit of his corporation. He wasn’t old, not in the human sense. Technically he was extremely old, but such things didn’t really matter when it came to Heavenly corporations. Ten years or a thousand, their forms did not normally change unless they wished it.

He left feeling more comfortable in his clothing but deeply unsettled.

As he walked over to Aziraphale’s the thoughts in his head only grew louder. Could anybody tell? Did the other angels in Heaven notice that his corporation was changing? Did they think earth was making him shirk his responsibilities? Had they noticed how often he had been coming down?

He walked faster and faster, so quickly that at first he walked past Aziraphale’s shop and needed to retrace his steps. When he knocked, Aziraphale greeted him at the door with his customary exuberance and a tray of mokatines, but this time Gabriel gently pushed the tray away.

“Afraid that I can’t stay long enough for tea this time.”

“Oh.” He could see the other angel’s smile fade a little. “Lots of work to do in Heaven I suppose?” He set the cakes aside as Gabriel came in and settled on the couch.

“I think I might go for a run, actually.” He set a hand on his stomach. “I’m afraid the corporation has been getting a bit, well, flabby. Need to lay off the desserts and get back to exercise.” He could see Aziraphale go a bit red and he looked away, wondering if his words had offended the other angel. “Not that the cakes don’t look good!” They looked _extremely_ good; that was the problem. Aziraphale continued to fidget a little and feeling a strange tension in the air, Gabriel hastened to sit down and get on with it.

He tried to rush through the meeting, but he couldn’t help glancing over at the table where Aziraphale had set the treats. There was a delicate coffee scent coming off of them and each time he looked, he lost track of where they were at and had to ask Aziraphale to repeat himself.

By the third time, the other angel reach over and set a hand on his knee. “You can have one if you like. Really, there’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s alright, Gabriel.”

He wanted one, badly. But he shook his head. “I need to maintain my corporation better. Set an example,” he protested and went back to filling out lines on his report.

“You are setting an example!” He insisted. “An inspiring example! You’ve been so delightful these last few weeks and months, it’s done wonders for morale.”

He looked up from his paperwork. “Really?”

“Oh yes! All the other angels I’ve spoken to say so.”

“Well. That’s good I suppose.” It was his job, after all, to make sure that all the angels under his command were doing their best work. Positive morale was surely part of that. Perhaps what he was doing wasn’t so terrible.

“And. You are happy.. aren’t you? Enjoying these things? With me?”

The shop was quiet and the seconds ticked by. Aziraphale went and got the plate and held it out to him, waiting.

* * *

As Gabriel talked, Aziraphale could see emotion playing out on his face and it was not unlike looking into a mirror. The anxiety of thinking you might be doing the wrong thing, worrying that you were going to disappoint in the role that Heaven intended for you, wondering why you weren't the ideal. Heaven could be so particular sometimes, so high in its standards, so bland in its enjoyments.

But he had seen the joy on Gabriel’s face every time they had taken a meal together. Perhaps it was presumptuous, he thought, but he knew what Gabriel liked. He liked strong, bold flavors - sweetness to make the teeth ache or spice to make the tongue burn. He liked rich textures, the way some foods coated the mouth with fat or how others crunched when bitten. He knew how satisfied he was after a meal, how much he anticipated the next, how cheerful it made him to sit at table and talk of what he liked most about the dishes they were trying.

He was _so_ close to letting go, Aziraphale thought. He just needed reassurance that there was nothing wrong in the pleasure that he felt.

“And. You are happy… aren’t you? Enjoying these things? With me?”

As he offered the treats, he could see Gabriel hesitate and go red. He didn’t speak for a few long moments; Aziraphale feared he might leave, but then he shook his head. “My corporation,” he protested. “I had to get my suit adjusted. It’s not the same as it was.”

“That’s alright,” Aziraphale promised, thinking back on all that Crowley had told him not so long ago. “Nothing wrong with that at all. You can make the clothing fit you; you don’t need to force yourself to fit the clothing. Don’t deny yourself because of a little thing like that.” He picked up one of the little cakes and held it out. “Try it,” he urged.

Slowly, Gabriel leaned forward and ate it in a single bite. His tongue darted to the edge of his mouth, catching any stray frosting or nuts, before he leaned in again licked the tips of Aziraphale’s fingers to get what was left there too. As the taste hit his tongue, as he swallowed, Aziraphale felt a pulse of pure love and exhilaration pour off of the other angel. His face went slack with delight.

“Can I have another?”

“Of course!” Aziraphale beamed. “And I’ll get the kettle on.”

Aziraphale took one for himself, popping it in his mouth before handing Gabriel the tray. He came back a bit later with two steaming mugs of Assam, cloudy with milk and sugar. He saw that Gabriel had already worked his way through two more of the little cakes. Carefully, so as not to upset the plate in the other angel’s lap, he lowered himself down next to Gabriel.

“Here.” He held out the mug of tea, which he took as he balanced the tray of cakes on his legs. Aziraphale moved just a bit closer, until their thighs were lightly touching. As Gabriel drank, he reached for another. He nibbled at it while Gabriel gulped down the Assam, sighing in satisfaction. “Lovely, yes?”

Gabriel turned and looked at him. His purple eyes were luminous in the dim lighting of the bookshop, almost glowing as he nodded his head. He reached out and brushed his thumb along the crease of Aziraphale’s mouth, scooping up a stray bit of frosting before licking it off his digit.

“Yes. Very,” he agreed.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

“Lovely, yes?”

It was. It had taken Gabriel a while to realize what he was feeling. After all, it was something he felt to a certain degree all the time, something that all angels felt. A feeling that suffused him and warmed him. Something he never expected to feel for any one specific being, let alone the strange and stuffy angel who had been among humans for so long.

_Love._

He loved the anticipation of walking into the bookshop, knowing he would be welcomed with treats. He loved the surprise of trying out something new or the familiarity of enjoying something he had already tasted. He loved the way food made his corporation feel, the sensation of it on his tongue and the full, comfortable feelings he felt after he was finished. And, he thought in the bookshop’s dim, cozy interior, he loved the angel who presented these things to him like they were treasures, who’s eyes followed his expression, whose delight mirrored his own.

When his fingers brushed Aziraphale’s skin, it felt plush and warm. His lips were wet from his tongue tracing over them with his tongue to catch all of the icing, though he still managed to miss a bit in the very corner. Gabriel swiped it away and licked it off his finger; he could see Aziraphale’s pupils grow wide and dark.

“Yes. Very.”

He suddenly felt more aware of himself and of Aziraphale’s proximity to him. He could smell the slightly floral, woodsy cologne that Aziraphale used scenting the air. The bookshop’s lamps threw light that was caught in Aziraphale’s white-gold curls, haloing his face. His eyes were fixed on Gabriel and in them he could see the purple glow of his own reflected. Their legs were pressed together and their faces were close. If he only leaned forward…

“Gabriel?” Aziraphale whispered and he blinked.

“Forgive me.” He pulled away and straightened up. “I don’t know where my head was.”

“No need to apologize.” Aziraphale patted his knee and then let his hand rest there.

Gabriel swallowed. The taste of tea and coffee and sugar still lingered inside his mouth. “Aziraphale. I…”

“Yes?”

A moment passed.

“I… I think that I’d still like to go on that run. Would you like to join me?”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he drew his hand back to his own lap, fidgeting and twisting the edge of his vest. “It’s not… well. Not really my thing. Running.” There was a sinking feeling in Gabriel’s stomach. “But I would be happy to accompany you to the park and watch from a bench! There is a delightful little lake where one can feed the ducks. You could run there while I enjoy the day?”

Gabriel stood up and with a wave, transformed his suit into the soft, grey jogging suit that he normally exercised in. “Great!” He clapped his hands together. “Perfect!”

“Let me grab something to feed the ducks and I’ll show you the way. It really is the loveliest spot,” he promised. Gabriel nodded, smiling to himself as Aziraphale bustled off into the back and returned with a little bag filled with corn and peas, holding it up triumphantly. “There!”

The archangel eyed a bag of mixed corn and peas. _Vegetables._ “And they like that?”

“Very much!” He assured him before he lead Gabriel outside and locked up - though as far as Gabriel could recall, few people ever seemed to enter the shop anyway. “I did used to feed them bread, but then Cr… well.” He coughed. “I read somewhere that it wasn’t actually very good for them and that one ought to give them peas or oats or lettuce instead.”

“Kind of you to take such care of Her creatures.” He nodded approvingly as they walked down the street, falling into step as the other pedestrians parted around them so that they could walk side by side. His hands swung beside him and his fingers twitched a little. “You are a good angel, Aziraphale,” he said sincerely. “A credit to Her host.”

He could see the other angel blush and beam, dipping his head and fussing with the bag he was holding, twisting it around in his hands. “Well. One does try.”

It would be so simple, so easy, he thought, to reach out. Take his arm. Hold his hand.

He shook his head and kept walking.

* * *

As Aziraphale settled himself on the bench, a few ducks waddled up, already recognizing him. He tossed them a handful of corn and peas which they eagerly started pecking at. In front of him, Gabriel was stretching, pulling his legs back before leaning to the left and right, tugging his arms up over his head and making the grey fabric of his jogging outfit ride up.

One of the ducks at his feet gave an angry quack and Aziraphale startled, realizing with a flush that he’d been staring. He threw another handful of vegetables at his feet and a few more ducks wandered over, jostling with the others as they saw there was free food to be had. As they pecked about in the grass, Aziraphale looked across the lake to see Gabriel catching his stride.

He could see the stretch of the fabric, pulling across Gabriel’s thicker midriff and the rounder shape of his backside. As he ran, his stomach bobbed just slightly in time with his steps and his thighs brushed up against one another as they moved back and forth. But there was still no mistaking the strength beneath it all. By the time he circled around the lake once, there was a thin sheen of sweat on his skin and it was shining a little in the sun, like the surface of the lake. He gave a wave to Aziraphale as he went by and he returned it with a fond smile before looking down as he felt a duck tugging at the leg of his trousers.

Aziraphale tossed out another handful which seemed to satisfy the ducks for a bit, before going back to watching Gabriel. There was a rhythm to the way that he moved, a pace that was entrancing. His face glowed from the sweat and the sun, but also from the pleasure it was clear he felt. He looked the same as he did when he was eating something he enjoying. He held his head high and smiled, picking up speed as he went for a third go-around. Back and forth Aziraphale went, between feeding the ducks and following Gabriel, until at last the bag he’d brought with him was empty and Gabriel came over, puffing and panting, hair slick with sweat, to sit down on the bench beside him.

When they had started off walking to the park, the sun had been high overhead. Now it was finally starting to sink, creeping below the tops of the trees that filled the park. Next to him, Gabriel leaned forward, arms resting on his curved thighs and head bowed as he caught his breath. Not only was his hair damp, but there were dark patches of sweat under his arms and down his front; initially Aziraphale hadn’t thought much of it but now it suddenly occurred to him that Gabriel was permitting his corporation to do that. Had he always done? Before he began socializing, before he began eating, he’d always seemed to find the ins and outs of a corporation vaguely distasteful. Now he was huffing and sweating, grinning at Aziraphale as he caught his pungent scent.

“Sorry,” he exhaled. “I must stink.”

“It’s quite alright,” Aziraphale reassured him. “You looked like you were having fun.”

“I do enjoy a good run.” He clapped him on the back. “Maybe one of these days I’ll get you to try it, just like you got me to try food! You might actually like it!”

Aziraphale gave him a small, coy smile. “Perhaps. Nevertheless, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. It was a delightful day.”

Gabriel nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I had a good time. Back to heaven then.” He looked up for a moment, the back to Aziraphale. “Take care of yourself, alright? I’ll see you soon.” Then suddenly, as if on impulse, Gabriel wrapped one arm around Aziraphale and pulled him into a quick hug before letting go and vanishing in a crack of lightning.

His arm still warm from where Gabriel had touched, Aziraphale ran his hand down the sleeve of his coat. However, he didn’t have much time to reflect on the incident; there was suddenly irate quacking and splashing in front of him and he looked up to see one of the ducks getting submerged under water before floating back up with angry flaps, sending droplets of water flying everywhere.

A sharp sense of déjà vu came over him. “Crowley?” He looked around at the other people in the park, saw couples and children and others jogging by, half expecting to see Crowley sauntering up behind him or leaning against a nearby lamppost.

But the demon was nowhere to be found.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

  
When Gabriel returned to Heaven, he retreated to his quarters which, though celestial, were furnished not unlike a human apartment. Specifically in his case, similar to a penthouse suite in a luxurious American high rise. It was white and polished as the rest of heaven was, with enormous closets full of his clothing and a bed that he never used.  
  
It also had a bathroom which he didn’t use either, for he never allowed himself to have the need. But now, sweaty and red in the face, he thought a shower might be nice. It didn’t take much to conjure up what was needed, soap and shampoo and soft towels made of spun cotton. He turned the water on, hot enough that steam was rising from it in billows, and once he was undressed, stepped inside and pulled the curtain behind him.  
  
The water ran down in rivulets, following the shape and curves of his body. He lathered up a washcloth with a goat’s milk soap that smelled faintly of lavender and when he started washing, he could feel softness all over. His stomach bulged and dimpled as he pressed his fingertips into it, his upper arms as well had a bit of plush give to them. The cloth trailed down his thighs and instead of making a straight line, they slightly, gently, swelled outward.  
  
It wasn’t a problem, Aziraphale had said. It wasn’t an issue. It was _alright_. He didn’t have to feel upset or angry or ashamed. Clothing could be made to fit. He didn’t need to deny himself.  
  
His reassurances were so tempting. But stopping to look at, to see his naked form now that it was beginning to change, and he couldn't help a hot bubble of shame from rising in him. He was an archangel, he was supposed to be celestial, perfect and unchanging. He wasn’t supposed to let his corporation get like this.  
  
He could do better, he told himself. Go to earth more for jogging and exercise, stop eating altogether, not even a little, make sure that his corporation didn’t need to. But then, he thought, what of Aziraphale? If they weren’t eating together, was there even any reason for them to be so close? Aziraphale would understand, he thought. He was only a Principality, after all, he would understand that Gabriel needed to be held to a higher standard.  
  
But then what reason would he have to linger in the little bookshop, to lean into Aziraphale, to watch him happily eating, beaming softly when he did. No reason to see Aziraphale light up when they enjoyed something new or feel the warmth of Aziraphale’s hand resting on his shoulder, their thighs grazing against one another. He didn’t want to be without Aziraphale, without his excitement, without his passion for food or even books. The thought of losing those things all for the sake of his form made his heart twist. He dried and dressed himself, still unsettled as he went back to his office.  
  
Hoping paperwork might distract him, he started in on the monthly reports from the earthly agents. Miracles were a little bit high, he noticed. But there were so many inconveniences on earth that angels had to deal with. Who wouldn’t use a few miracles now and then to deal with the trouble of living there. He didn’t know how they would manage without and a few more miracles than the strict allotment was better than them leaving. They had to persuade them to stay on earth _somehow_.  
  
Nearly done, he was about to move on to reports of demonic activity when there was a knock at his door. He looked up to see Michael, prim and proper as she always was.  
  
“Gabriel. A word?” She beckoned him with a finger.  
  
Nodding silently, he got up and followed her to her office, which was somehow even more sparse than his save for the weapons mounted on the walls. She sat behind her immaculately clean desk and he felt a spike of dread. Perhaps she had noticed the changes to his corporation and he was about to be reprimanded for getting so sloppy with it. His corporation might even be taken away if it was bad enough and he’d have to get a new one. His hands, folded behind his back, were damp with sweat.  
  
Then Michael broke out in a smile.  
  
“I’ve been looking over the number of souls we’ve had coming in.” She spun around a monitor displaying a variety of charts. “We’ve seen a noticeably spike over the last several months from all of the locations where we have earth agents stationed. _And_ we’ve seen an interest in the program grow internally.” She rose. “I wanted to commend you for your excellent work with the program and let you know that we would be expanding the program out to ten new locations. If you could, get back to me with a report of a short list of the locales you think would be best for the stationing of an earthly agent by the end of the week.” She came out from around the desk and patted him on the shoulder. “Well done, Gabriel.”  
  
“Really?” His mouth hung open. “Of course! I’ll get that to you right away.” He beamed and brought his hands around to clasp in front of him, giving Michael a quick bow before returning to his office.  
  
Closing out his previous work, he opened up a fresh document and started at the blank page for a few moments, trying to think of which locations might be best. Then he rose and went to the globe in the lobby.  
  
What better way to get a feel for which locations could benefit from an angelic agent than by visiting in person? And perhaps finding a few more treats that he could bring back to Aziraphale along the way.

* * *

  
“Angel? You called, said you needed to talk?” Crowley stepped into the shop, the door open as ever for him.  
  
Aziraphale was sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in his hand. It was full but looked cold. He didn’t seem to be drinking it at all, just staring in front of him before he looked up at Crowley. “Yes. I wished to talk. For I _must_ talk with somebody.”  
  
“Can’t talk to Gabriel?” Crowley snarked as he flopped down onto the couch next to him and looked at the tea. “Need me to warm that up for you?”  
  
With a shake of his head, he set the cup aside. “Something happened, at the end of Gabriel’s visit today.” He looked over at Crowley. “I think Gabriel might, well. Have feelings towards me.” His hands fidgeted in his lap. “Of course, I don’t _know_. He didn’t say anything, only gave me a quick hug. But he never does things like that, does he? And the way he looked at me before in the shop. But perhaps it was a trick of the light?”  
  
As Aziraphale fretted, Crowley grew still. He knew about the park; he didn’t know what had apparently happened in the shop earlier. He seemed rooted to the spot. “Forget what he feels. What do _you_ feel, angel?”  
  
“I’m not certain.” He fingers gripped at the material of his trousers. He looked at Crowley. “But I cannot say that I have no feelings of affection towards him, nascent though they may be.”  
  
Crowley fell forward and put his head in his hands. “For Gabriel. The Archangel _fucking_ Gabriel.”  
  
“My dear…”  
  
“I can’t talk to you about this Aziraphale. I can’t. Gabriel. Really?” He tilted his head and was grateful for the sunglasses that were hiding his stinging eyes. “But it’s alright for you isn’t it? He’s an angel, an archangel. Not a demon, right? You’re on the same side so it’s fine.”  
  
“Crowley, you are my closest friend…”  
  
“Closer than Gabriel?”  
  
“Closer than anybody!” He blurted out, almost seeming surprised at himself with the admission. He leaned over, set a hand on Crowley’s knee and pressed on. “I am fond of Gabriel, yes, I do not deny it. But Gabriel never saved me from execution. Gabriel never stepped on consecrated ground to save me from Nazis and then saved my books!”  
  
“But I still go too fast for you, don’t I?” He snapped, brushing the touch away.  
  
Aziraphale went quiet and looked down. “Crowley, I…”  
  
“Don’t bother. I can’t hear this.” His voice cracked. “I don’t have the answers you need angel.”  
  
With that he strode out of the bookshop, slamming the door behind him. Aziraphale sat in silence for a long moment before reaching for the cup of tea, only to find it warm as his eyes clouded over.

* * *


End file.
